And So it Goes On
by MellyRoseD
Summary: "A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives." The lives of those around Elizabeth and Darcy move forwards, as do they, in this series of One-Shots about what happens after the wedding, and how life isn't always what one would have expected.
1. Just a Child

_**A/N: I will be writing a series of One-Shots about the fates of random characters in Pride and Prejudice, each chapter will be about 1,000 words or more. Not everyone will get the happy (or bad) ending one would expect. (This takes place in a completely different universe than 'Silly Loud and Stupid.) **_

_2 Years After the Marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy _

A tired young lady gazed out the grimy window of her hovel of a home, a letter crumbled in her fist, and tears welling up in her eyes. Her life shouldn't have turned out this way, she had thought she found her happy ending, but it wasn't the ending. It had been just the beginning of a terrible nightmare. _It wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed to be like this itwasntsupposedtobelikethis… stupid girl stupid stupid stupid. All my fault, all my fault. _

Lydia Wickham had always been her mother's favorite. From the time she was born her mother doted on her, giving her everything she requested, letting her get away with any nonsense she got into. She had been the youngest in a household with five daughters, and she was the baby of the bunch. This fact was one she once revelled in, but after two years of being away from her family, she realized how wholly unfair it was.

Her father ignored her from the moment she was born, and he treated her like the dumbest of the bunch (even though she had officers at her beck and call). Jane talked down to her like she couldn't understand anything. Lizzie acted like she was an embarrassment, Little Miss High and Mighty she was. Mary never even bothered with her except to tell her how wrong she was about everything. Kitty followed her around and did whatever she asked like a puppy dog. None of them ever encouraged her to try new things, or to learn, or read, or play the pianoforte. Instead, they shooed her off and Kitty would trot behind like the good sister she was.

They never taught her the evils of the world. They never warned her about what would happen if she broke the rules or behaved ridiculously (all they did was roll their eyes and act like she was beneath them). They never made her listen in church. They never made her share. They never bothered to make her do anything, and they never taught her anything. Yet they had expected her to learn. So she clung to her mother's lessons, the only thing anyone tried to teach her.

"Catch a good husband! Oh I do love a red coat! Flirting and giggling is pleasing to any man! Bat your eyelashes!" her mama would say before going to any public gathering.

And so Lydia took these lessons and ran with them, hoping to be the best she could be at attracting the opposite sex. Oh, and she was very good at it. As the second prettiest of the Bennet girls (Jane had her beat with the angelic beauty she possessed) and the most outgoing, boys began flocking to her the moment she turned thirteen. It was the thing that set her apart from her family, and she loved being the center of attention. So she would flirt and bat her eyelashes, waiting and hoping that a rich man would fall in love with her so she could be the best of the sisters.

She copied her mother as much as possible. Drinking at parties, giggling, gossiping, running about with her friends, and yet it only made her father and elder sisters dislike her even more. _Surely_, she thought, _they can't possibly hate me for behaving like our mama_! Her mother loved her more for it, calling her a sweet girl and giving her more pin money. What a child she was!

Lydia was definitely a child and an innocent one at that. She never thought of the dangers of men. Men had made her think of stolen kisses, laughter and good fun. But that wasn't what she found after becoming George's bride. No, she had been a stupid little fly that trapped itself in a spider's web.

Now, the letter sealed her fate, her only lifeline had cut her off. Lizzie had written her to announce that she would no longer be sending money to pay off the Wickham's debts. Lydia knew she would be expelled from her shabby lodgings by the end of the month without any money to support her. A sob escaped her mouth. George had always been gone for days at a time, but he hadn't returned in two weeks now. She was all alone in the harsh north, with few friends, a family that despised her, and a baby growing inside of her.

At seventeen, Lydia had a husband who didn't love her, mountains of debt, and soon, a child. She was still just a child herself. All she wanted was to wrap herself up in her mama's arms, or to cry to Kitty, by God, she would have begged Mary for a sermon or a horrible song on the piano just to feel like a girl of fifteen again. She knew George gambled and drank their money away, she knew that without Lizzie's funding, she would find herself living on the streets. George probably wouldn't notice or care.

Her hands rested on her swollen abdomen, feeling the child kicking. She wondered if giving it to an orphanage would be more merciful than having a stupid child like herself raising it.

"Stupid little girl, you're so stupid," she cried out loud now, sitting on the worn out couch of the small parlor. She should have known George didn't love her, she should have known all he had wanted was her body. Mary had mentioned men were lustful and therefore sinful, but Lydia had thought Mary was just being a bore.

She should have known being a soldiers wife wouldn't be easy. She should have known she would eventually become a mother. She should have known that her family couldn't fix her mistakes forever. But they had never taught her, they never made her learn. From the moment she was born until the moment she left Longbourn, she had been treated like a child. But they had expected her to handle her problems like an adult.

Now she was on the verge of destitution, and although her problems were all those of a full grown lady, Lydia never felt like more of a scared little girl.

_**A/N: I don't particularly pity Lydia, but I did feel bad that her family treated her as if she was a little girl and then expected her to act the part of a grownup. I can imagine her future to be bleak no matter how one would try to spin the scenario. **_


	2. In Spite of it All

_3 ½ Years After the Marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy _

"Mrs. Collins! I have grand news! Miss Anne De Bourgh is engaged to be married!" Mr. Collins rushed into the rectory and to his wife, wheezing and sweating from his running back to the parsonage. Charlotte Collins, holding their sleeping two year old daughter, smiled brightly at her husband. Their year old son, Andrew, was asleep in his nursery.

"That is wonderful news to be sure, Mr. Collins," she replied genially, standing from her chair and mentally preparing herself for the onslaught of words that would pour from his mouth about Anne's new betrothed. Charlotte was quite used to her husband's foibles and now found at least some amusement in them. She was not disappointed by his immediate reaction.

"He is the most wonderful gentleman to be sure, two and forty years of age with a knightship! His family is one of the most esteemed and well known in the country, their estate in Nottinghamshire is almost as big as Rosings, but of course, not as lovely, in fact I was just telling Lady Catherine…" Charlotte made all the proper remarks and smiled at all the right times, making sure he believed she was listening. After four years of marriage, she had learned to tune him out, as to keep her sanity intact (even if she was sometimes amused!) Her favorite game was watching the clock to see how long he spoke until he realized she was no longer replying.

To her surprise, her relationship with her husband was better than she ever would have expected upon first meeting the man.

Truth be told, a fondness had grown between the two of them. She believed love would never truly bloom due to the fact that she could never truly respect the man, but indeed, it was a stout fondness. It was almost as if she were married to a close friend. One that talked often. Their parsonage would never be as wonderful as Elizabeth's lifestyle at Pemberley, and she would never be madly in love with her husband like Jane, but she was comfortable and happy with the life she led at Rosings.

Often she and Mr. Collins shared a bed, not in the romantic sense, as it seemed that neither of them were ever in the mood to do such amorous activities, but in a more familial sense. And the warmth he provided from his heavier body didn't hurt in the winter months either. At first he had thought it to be unholy, but after gently reminding him that they were indeed married, he relented to it, and Charlotte's loneliness faded away with the new closeness that sleeping in the same bed brought.

She was the perfect clergyman's wife. The people of her husband's flock adored her, and she made many friends through the church. Throughout Rosings and the land surrounding it, she was more well liked than she had ever been in Hertfordshire. It felt wonderful to be around people who didn't whisper things about spinsterhood and her homely face and small dowry. Mr. Collins respected her more than she ever thought a man with such strange arrogance ever could (thankfully he learned a small bit of humility since marrying her).

She snapped from her thoughts as he finally finished describing Miss De Bourgh's fiance. Their daughter let out a yawn, bringing their attention to the girl whose eyes were fluttering open. A smile lit her face, and she reached a chubby hand out to her father, squealing "Papa!" as she did so. On these occasions, Charlotte watched Mr. Collin's face turn from self important to adoring and loving. It was not the same way he regarded Lady Catherine, no, this was pure unadulterated love of the most wonderful kind. The love a father could only have for his daughter.

"My dear Amelia," he replied, motioning to ask if he could hold her or not. Charlotte passed the girl to her father, secretly happy that her rather heavy daughter was out of her tired arms. He kissed the crown of her mousy brown hair, and Amelia giggled as if it was some wonderful joke the two shared. "Amelia, would you like to hear some news about our wonderful and great patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourgh?" The girl bobbed her head, eager to spend time with her papa. _He _was eager to have someone to listen to all of his thoughts and lessons from their patroness.

And so Mr. Collins went on yet another tangent about Miss Anne's engagement, and Charlotte sat down, finally enjoying her needlework without a two year old asleep in her arms. There were many worse fates that could have occurred for Charlotte. She could have ended up as a spinster, living with her parents still at the age of one and thirty. Just the thought caused her to shudder with repulsion and embarrassment. The idea was insupportable! But she never had to worry about that again, thanks to Mr. Collins.

The day dragged into evening, dinner was served, their son was fed and put back to bed, and Amelia was asleep in the nursery with him. The only two awake in the parsonage was Mr. Collins and Charlotte, both who began to prepare for bed in their own chambers. A knock on her door caused a smile to spread onto Charlotte's face. She opened the door, seeing Mr. Collins standing on the other side, the same sheepish look on his face that he had every night he came to speak with her before bed.

"Charlotte, my dear, do you still desire to come to bed in my chambers tonight?" he enquired, pulling at the neck of his nightshirt. Charlotte replied that yes, she did still desire to share a bed. A look of relief washed over Mr. Collins' face as she walked into his chambers and settled into his bed (which was far more comfortable than her own). He laid next to her, getting comfortable and looking at her with something in his eyes that she hadn't ever seen before.

"Charlotte," he began, before stopping. He sighed heavily and the next thing she knew, he blew the candles out. In the darkness, she could hear his worried breathing.

"What is it, my dear?" she questioned, feeling a little apprehensive now. Usually he was far more loquacious.

"I do love you ever so much," he said, and it was filled with such conviction that Charlotte felt her very breath stop in her chest. Never once had he said it like that, never once had he been nervous as he said it to her, it had always been like a rehearsed line from a play.

He truly loved her. The warmth that filled her body and soul caused a genuine smile to play on her lips in the darkness of the room. "And I love you," she replied.

Although she did not feel it yet, deep down, she knew that one day she would be able to mean it.

At first she had greatly regretted their marriage, but as Charlotte shared a bed with a man that actually loved her, in her own home, with two children, she knew that being practical had been the best decision of her life.

_**A/N: I know my chapters are short but I prefer short chapters, and I'm not really trying to write a saga, I just want to get ideas and thoughts across. I believe that Charlotte could one day come to love Collins, no matter how hated he is by the rest of the Bennet Clan, he may be stupid, but I believe he could fall in love with her too, he's a man who probably would do much better if he had a companion in life. I think age might humble him, especially if he had a wife as calm as Charlotte. **_

_**And on the added point of Lydia, yes these stories are going to be colored by whose view it is. Lydia will make herself the victim of everything just like Charlotte tries to see the best in everything.**_


	3. Two Bodies One Soul

_5 Years After the Marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy _

Kitty Bennet woke up in a room she did not recognize, with a strange ache between her legs, and someone else in her bed. Blinking rapidly, she began to giggle to herself. What a fool she was! There was no need to be worried, for she was waking up by her husband. _Oh how wonderful that sounds, _she thought gaily, _my husband! _Their wedding had been the day before, and that night she and he were joined officially as man and wife.

A happy sigh left her mouth and she stood from the bed, stretching her limbs and untangling her long ash colored hair. They had mussed it quite a bit with their actions from the night before! After slipping on a dressing gown, Kitty walked over to her husband, a look of fondness on her face. She had observed his handsome countenance many times before, but not while he slept, so therefore she had never seen him fully relaxed. Now she had the opportunity to gaze unabashedly at him.

James Threadson was a clergyman, and one would not expect a clergyman to be as handsome as he. His black curls framed his dignified face, with dark coal colored eyes that showed every emotion that passed through his mind. Although he often looked severe at a first glance (similar to that of Lizzie's husband, Mr. Darcy), if one only looked into his eyes, they would feel as if they were in the presence of someone who truly cared for their well being and happiness. And James did care for everyone's happiness, especially those in his flock. But most of all, he cared for Kitty more than anyone he ever met (and she loved him more than anyone she ever met).

She had been introduced to him nine months before, when she visited Lizzie to see their second child, a son named Bennet. Their papa had been pleased to hear his grandson's name, and their mama had been in raptures over the opulence of Pemberley, despite having been there twice before. Kitty and Mary, having grown quite close, spent most of their time at Pemberley together, and in the company of Georgiana Darcy.

Then, on a day spent in town, Kitty had apparently dropped her handkerchief, only to have it handed back to her by James Threadson, who looked as if he had seen a particularly beautiful painting or heard a moving song. He stammered out introductions, and Lizzie, ever the observationist, watched her younger sister talk with him politely. But all Lizzie saw was Threadson's face as he watched Kitty speak. He was clearly enamoured with her immediately upon meeting. So, in all politeness, Lizzie began shoving the two together as much as humanly possible.

Kitty would forever be in her sister's debt, because without her help, Kitty would have never gotten the opportunity to fall madly in love with James. They were simply just 'close friends' for their first two months, with Mary and Georgiana always hovering about. And then Lizzie extended an invitation for Kitty to stay the winter, and she could hardly say no when she believed she found her one true love.

All that was in the past, and Kitty now was married to him, and still she marveled that he had loved her. He was all humble humility and politeness, with soft teasing humor, and goodness that Kitty could never even hope to achieve. How he came to love her, with her sarcasm (carefully cultivated by her father for four years after Lydia had left), flirtiness, and less than perfect manners was beyond her comprehension. And despite his assertions, Kitty knew she was not the prettiest of the Bennet girls. She had plain brown eyes that didn't sparkle like Lizzie's, brown hair, and a far too petite body ("Unfit for childbearing! What man would ever want that?" her mother had bemoaned).

Yet he loved her more than any man in the world would dare to. So she wouldn't question it, and she would remain completely happy and equally in love with the man.

Eventually he began to stir, sitting up and letting out an ungentlemanly yawn. Giggling, Kitty crawled onto the bed next to him, putting her arms around his bare torso. He laughed softly, turning to kiss her lightly on the neck.

"How did you sleep, dear heart?" he questioned, brushing a piece of hair from her face.

Coquettishly, she replied, "You very well know I barely got any sleep last night, not that I'm complaining, I find it was an enjoyable way to spend an evening."

With a rush of satisfaction, she watched a deep red blush blossom on his face.

"Truly?" he questioned, "I didn't hurt you? For some said that happens during the loss of a maiden's virginity." Kitty shrugged, still smiling as widely as ever. The pain hadn't mattered, she had wanted to give everything to him.

"You could never hurt me, Jamie," whispered the girl, and he turned to face her completely.

"Oh my dear Kat, you've made me the happiest man in all of the world, and to think, all of this because of an errant piece of fabric!" he laughed fully now, falling back to the pillows with a thump.

"You're just lucky that I'm clumsy, Mr. Threadson, although I don't even recall dropping a handkerchief, I only recall you handing it back to me," she replied, using an arch tone similar to how she has heard Lizzie speak before. Feeling a rush of bravery, she swung one leg over him so she was straddling his waist. "And before you object, I feel completely fine, fine enough to allow a repeat of last night right now." She leaned down to touch her lips to his. Although Lydia kissed every man she desired to, Kitty had been too nervous, too embarrassed to even try. Now she was acting like a right scarlet woman right in front of a clergyman!

With his strength, James picked her up and rolled so she was trapped underneath him. "I never thought I'd say this to a lady, but you miss, are quite the minx!" Kitty giggled again breathlessly, before allowing him to continue kissing her. Soon her giggles were replaced by heavy breathing, and the two loved one another as wholly as any man and woman ever could.

Their happiness was comparable to Jane's and even Lizzie's. They would never be rich, but Kitty had never particularly desired to be wealthy (that meant her mother would have tried to live with _her _upon the death of their father!) They would remain in a honeymoon-like stage for the first ten years of their marriage, at the rate they were going. The future was full of uncertainties including children, being an active member of the church, and dealing with the rest of her growing family, but when she kissed her husband, she knew everything would turn out alright.

_**A/N: I wrote Kitty's love as very passionate despite his station as a clergyman. The only thing that could have induced her to marry a man of the cloth would be true love! I can imagine the two of them being a mixture of awkward and distant until finally their feelings were known and now they cannot help but share every emotion with each other. On another note, I think if I was Charlotte and had heard Lizzie talk about how much she hated Darcy, I wouldn't think their relationship was exactly based off love. **_


	4. Head in the Clouds Feet on the Ground

_6 ½ Years After the Marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy _

Colonel Fitzwilliam loved a good ball, and indeed he was invited to many of them. His family made sure of that, but of late, he began to feel a loneliness in his heart even in a room full of people. At the age of seven and thirty, Richard longed for a wife. The feeling began after visiting Darcy and Elizabeth at their townhouse early in the season. Watching them interact with the utmost love and desire in their every actions towards each other must have awakened a deadened part of his heart. At first he believed it to be the desire for a companion, but after spending over a week with the Darcy's only proved his point further. He needed a wife.

So as he stood in the corner of a crowded ballroom, he actively sought out a girl in which he wished to converse with. Some girls flitted past him, with no intentions of settling on a husband, especially not a second son with no great fortune. He sighed deeply, not feeling his usual cheeriness, and wondering why he chose now to begin to desire a wife. If one had asked him ten years prior if he ever wanted to marry, he would have jovially said he enjoyed a permanent bachelorhood. But with his happiness on the line, he knew without question that he wasn't the handsomest man in the room, and his charms were failing him now. Without them, he feared he had nothing to recommend him to the fairer sex.

Feeling as if the entire night was lost, he watched as Mr. Greenhow, a gentleman with an estate worth more than even the Darcy's approached him. He knew him to be a pompous and rather lofty man, who had six daughters and one son. Four of the daughters were married off to men around the country, and his son had married only a fortnight ago.

"Ah! Fitzwilliam, how are you this evening?" Greenhow inquired, shaking his hand with a firm grip.

"Very well, I thank you. May I also give you congratulations on your son's marriage?" said Richard, the attempt at gaiety in his voice failing him. Greenhow's eyebrow rose and his mustache twitched as he accepted the congratulations, but he did not question Fitzwilliam's mood. At first. But sadly Greenhow was a rather nosey gentleman who couldn't keep his mouth shut after a glass of brandy.

"I've noticed there are more gentleman than ladies in this room tonight, and yet you stand alone in the corner, quite unlike you sir, if I may be so bold to say," Richard sighed internally. He knew this conversation would eventually lead to him asking him to dance with the elder of the daughters, the one who had a sour face and was just as pompous as her father; despite almost all of her sisters making good matches, she was now five and twenty, with no man truly intrigued in her. Greenhow began talking of manly things like hunting and sports, but Richard wasn't really interested.

"Father, I hate to interrupt, but Eudora has just caused a slight scene with Miss Richmund, something about a dress and spilled wine, you should go quickly before a simple misunderstanding becomes a full blown scandal," the voice of his savior was soft and like a whisper of wind on a hot summer day. Greenhow rushed off, leaving Richard with the songstress that captured his ear.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. The last time he had seen Philomena Greenhow, she was only eighteen and just entering society, but five seasons had passed since then, and she had changed. In a way similar to Jane Bingley, she looked like an angel on earth. Her hair was so blonde it was almost silver, and her large indigo eyes seemed dreamy and intuitive at the same time. She was a vision in pale blue, and she was smiling at him.

"It's been quite some time, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Philomena greeted with a smile now.

"Indeed it has, and may I be so forward as to say you look lovely? But rather than standing here catching up, I find there is nothing more invigorating than a dance, would you do me the honor for the next set?" His charms were back, and he smiled at her as well as he could. She nodded cordially, giving him her arm, and they walked to the dance floor together.

As they danced a reel, he regaled her with stories of war and adventures and she talked of desires to visit the world and to see exotic animals and plants. He found her to be different than any woman he had met. Like Elizabeth, she was charming, like Jane, she was beautiful, like his cousin Anne, she was demure, and like his mother, she was elegant. But the thing about her that set her apart was the dreaminess that never left her as she spoke about twisting paths and calico skies. The way she spoke led him to believe she could one day be a great poet if she ever wanted to apply herself.

They danced the supper set together also, and dined next to each other. He told her about his family, she told him about hers. It seemed that they had no use for small talk, as they soon got into a flirtatious debate about whether or not India was a good investment for the crown in the long run. Their discussions perplexed those around them, those that knew Philomena knew she was strange and with her head in the clouds, and those that knew Richard knew he was charming and practical in a way that made everyone enjoy his presence. But his sudden interest in Philomena caused speculation abounds.

He knew the most common thought was her dowry, one of thirty five thousand pounds, was what drew him to her. They claimed he could not possibly be attracted to her, with her large childish eyes and a tall lithe body, yet he found those characteristics oddly intriguing and lovely. All of these thoughts were circulating before the ball was even over!

Greenhow watched in satisfaction as Philomena talked with Colonel Fitzwilliam like they were old companions, strangely enough, when he had gone to go see what was wrong with Eudora, he found that she was completely fine, talking with Miss Richmund with no wine to be seen.

"Miss Greenhow, may I call on you tomorrow?" questioned Richard, eager to see her as soon as possible. She tilted her head to the side.

"That is a little forward," Richard deflated, "but you may sir," the smile that appeared on her face was a small one, but it seemed that that was all she needed to become more beautiful than he had believed her to be. That night, Richard left the ball with high hopes and thoughts of the future, perhaps, she could one day be his bride. He knew it was the dreams of a mad man to believe a girl he barely knew could be his wife one day, but he felt it in his heart, neigh, his very soul.

(Only seven months in the future, he would ask her how she came to be interested in him of all gentlemen at the ball, and she would reply that it was at first a desire to save him from her father's blathering, and she even concocted a lie to free Richard from his grasp. It would be a favorite joke between them for years to come.)

_**A/N: Richard is a character that I can imagine only flirted with women due to his inability to truly commit. Once deciding he wanted to commit, I can imagine he would get much more uncomfortable because he actually wants to form a bond, not just a flirtation. So I invented Philomena Greenhow to be a dreamy, sweet girl who has a head in the clouds and a bit of a devious streak. I'm quite sick of seeing him somehow end up with one of the other Bennet girls, as he would definitely need an heiress to fund his lifestyle. Not that it's a bad premise of putting him with the other sisters, but it's just one that has been used often. **_

_**And yes there is a 14 year age gap between Col and Philomena, which wasn't uncommon. **_


	5. The Clarity of Jealousy

_8 Years After the Marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy _

Mary had never been fond of large crowds. She avoided the city and parties as much as humanly possible. Although she knew every person in the room, she still was very uncomfortable. They were at the Bingley house, a country manor purchased by Mr. Bingley only two years after marrying Jane. It was about twenty miles from Pemberley, and it was very beautiful, if not a bit ostentatious.

All of her sisters were there, Jane of course, with Bingley and their two daughters, Lizzie with her Mr. Darcy and their three children, Kitty… and James Threadson with their year old son, even Lydia and her boy Oliver were there (although nobody questioned the absence of Mr. Wickham). Both her parents were there, as were the Hurst with their twins, and Colonel Fitzwilliam (retired) with his young wife Philomena, who had just discovered she was with child. There was no way Caroline would be able to make it, something Mary heard Lizzie talk about happily. The house was full, a total of twenty-two people there, including herself and her husband. Twenty-four if you counted Jane and Philomena's unborn children.

Mary's husband, a Mister Edmond Martin had been her uncle Phillips clerk, and after many meetings, the man proposed a practical life together, and as Mary had been nearing twenty five, she accepted. As everyone had predicted, she had been the last to marry in the Bennet family, one year after Kitty. She sighed to herself, listening to her mother prattle on about how wonderful it was that Kitty, Elizabeth, and Lydia had birthed heirs already. Then she heard her mother bemoan Jane's lack of a son before saying that she was sure their next child would be a boy.

Bitterly, Mary noted that she had not even been considered in the conversation, owing it to being her mother's least favorite.

"Are you alright, sister?" asked a familiar voice that sent a thrill down her spine. Mary looked up to see her brother-in-law, James Threadson looking down at her with concern in his handsome face. His gaze constantly flitted back to Kitty, and she could see adoration flash in his eyes every time he looked upon her sister. Mary could not help the unholiness of her thoughts, her jealousy and envy for everything Kitty possessed filled her up and ate her away inside.

"Yes, I am fine sir," she replied tersely, noting how he was quickly losing interest as he kept glancing back towards his wife. His love for her was sickening. Mary's best kept secret was her undoing. Every time he was in the room, she watched James Threadson, longing for her sister's husband, and every night she prayed he would leave her heart. Not even almost three years of marriage pushed him from her thoughts, and still after four years of acquaintance with him, she felt the same as the moment she saw him.

They had been in town, something she loathed, looking for ribbons to retrim Kitty's dresses with. Having a slight cold, Mary had pulled out her unfinished handkerchief, which only had a 'B' embroidered into it, to blow her nose into. A gust of wind caught the delicate fabric and sent it flying from her hands. Inwardly she bemoaned the loss, but outwardly she did not wish to cause a scene. Then, she saw the handsomest man in all of the country approaching them, her sullied handkerchief in his hand!

Mary had never been a girl for romantics or dreams, but she believed it to be the divine grace of God that had brought him to them with her handkerchief in his grasp.  
>"I believe this is yours, Miss," he had said, his voice warm and raspy in a way that made Mary blush. But he hadn't been looking at her. He had been staring at Kitty with shining eyes. Her flirt of a sister accepted it, not even noticing she hadn't lost her handkerchief, and the two began to have a conversation in the middle of the town!<p>

From then on, Mary had been forced to see him almost every week, and she fell more and more in love with the clergyman. She knew she would have been a perfect clergyman's wife, pious and devoted, but he only had eyes for her sister. It made Mary weep with shame and self loathing at night after all had gone to bed. As soon as possible, she returned home with her parents, knowing that Kitty staying meant she would soon marry James Threadson. Then she met Edmond, and her practicality had swooped in and said yes to his proposal, knowing she would never love him.

This pain she kept hidden, and this pain she felt acutely. He left her and walked back to Kitty, grabbing her hand and calling her 'Kat' in the most heartfelt way. Edmond walked over to her, giving her a tense smile as he fixed his glasses.

"I am sure I know what you are thinking," said he in his monotonous voice.

"What do you believe I am thinking?" she asked, knowing he could never possibly guess.

"You are thinking that your sisters are far too showy with their wealth, and I quite agree with you, they really should learn the virtue of humility."

Mary nodded, pretending that he was right, before he turned back to the book he had brought, effectively ignoring her for the rest of the evening. It was wonderful for all five sisters to be together again, but still Mary felt as alone as always. She wondered if anyone else felt it as acutely as she.

With her observant pale blue eyes, she watched the room, seeing how everyone intertwined together, making a beautiful tapestry that she would never be involved in. Lizzie and Jane laughed together, whispering like they were back at Longbourn. Lydia and Mrs. Hurst were being entertained by Mrs. Fitzwilliam, who was talking of her visit to India with her husband, both of them looking surprisingly pleased by the tale. Darcy, Bingley, Mr. Hurst, the Colonel and her papa were all talking by the fireplace. Their mama for what seemed like the first time in her life, was silent as she watched the room with such satisfaction in her eyes that it was almost unbearable. Kitty and James had disappeared with the intent to go check on their boy in the nursery.

Just as Mary prepared to leave the room, an excuse ready on her lips, her mother walked to her. Expecting a berating, Mary braced herself, only to find her mother's arms around her in an embrace.

"I understand, my sweet, strange bookish girl, what it is like to feel alone in a house full of your family," her mother's voice was quiet and pained. Before Mary even knew what had happened, her mother was back to her seat, acting as if nothing had happened.

That night, Mary found herself crying once more, crying for her lost love, for her plain face, and that she never noticed her own mother's struggles due to her obsession with her own.

_**A/N: I know many people like to give Mary a happy ending, but I don't really believe that Jane Austen saying Mary 'settled' on a clerk of her uncle's really bodes for a happy marriage. Mary was miserable at Longbourn, and although she is a good hearted person, I believe she makes herself miserable often in an attempt to be different. So I decided to have her actually jealous of Kitty, the last sister she would ever think to be jealous of. Lydia she was jealous of for the love of her mother, Jane's beauty, and Lizzie's love from her father. Kitty was part of the scenery, and she clung to Lydia in a way that Mary probably found to be pathetic. **_


	6. A Bitter Reality

_9 ½ years After the Marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy _

She was sterile, according to all physicians. When she discovered this, she wept, not with sadness, but with joy. Her husband was a widower who had two small children, and the idea of any more children in her life would have destroyed her newfound peace. Caroline was safely far away from all those who knew about her past. She now lived in the colonies in South Carolina (ironically considering her name) with the last man on earth she could have believed she would marry.

They had met when he visited London to deal with estate matters, at first she was repulsed by his coarseness that came with being an American, his involvement in trade, and the fact that he had two children. She avoided him at all costs, but actively trying to escape him had somehow put him in her path more often than not. At every gathering they were thrown together, at every shop in town they ran into each other, and any time she went to the park he somehow wandered onto the path she was on.

Within his three months of being in England, he had proposed to her, and Caroline, being twenty seven and a spinster like the ugly Charlotte Lucas had once been, she accepted without questioning it. He got a special license and by the end of the year she was introduced to her two stepchildren, a boy named Harrison, and a girl named Holly.

America was very different from England, trade was far more respected there, women didn't mind Caroline's biting sarcasm, she didn't have to wear tangerine orange to attract attention, and people somehow actually enjoyed her company. Her husband was a different creature altogether. He was taller than Mr. Darcy, with broader shoulders and a head of fire colored hair with a full beard. When paired with her short stature and strawberry blondeness, they made for a handsome couple.

Henry Tackett was attracted to her personality, he liked her candor, he delighted in her desire to be better than everyone else, and he adored the way that she knew just the way to get under someone's skin. Now, instead of using those traits to put down other women (as she no longer had to compete with them), Caroline employed them to keep servants in line, to keep her new children safe from censure, and to make her husband happy. Her friends were all similar to her in their strange American toughness, all traders wives. The landowner wives were rather weak and faint, despite being in the country of the 'strong pioneers.' Caroline surprised even herself with how quickly she got over her obsession with being the wife of a landowner.

Henry and Caroline's relationship was strange in the way that he would let her be cruel to an extent, before retorting with cruelty to match hers and more. His last wife had been one he had loved, but she had been sickly and sensitive. Caroline on the other hand was able to roll with the punches and throw some of her own in a way that made their relationship feel more like an enjoyable sparring match rather than a companionship.

At first, Caroline had been determined to be miserable, but America did hold it's beauties, and South Carolina was warmer with less cold rains and snow than in England. Without bad weather, her disposition brightened considerably as she could do whatever she pleased every day. Without the ton, she felt free and like the girl of fourteen, before her father hit rich and she learned that she would require to become the 'perfect' woman to win a rich husband.

When she had tried to be 'perfect' within the first month of marriage, Henry had promptly told her that he wouldn't have married her if he wanted a 'perfect' English beauty. "I chose you," he had said, "because you reminded me of a rose. Beautiful, delicate, but thorns that cut and brambles that only experts know how to deal with." After which she never tried to be perfect and tittering again in his company. Instead, she was candid, unapologetic, and unafraid of making him appalled by her behaviour.

The strangest thing of all, she thought, was the way the children were so taken with her. Holly followed her around whenever she escaped her nanny, asking to learn how to become a lady. While she was trying to be sure, Caroline was charmed by the beautiful girl and decided that she could learn quite a bit (especially the what not to do part) from her. Harrison on the other hand, delighted in scaring her. Toads in his pockets, snakes in his boots, he loved making her scream, until Henry had brought a switch so hard to his backside that he couldn't sit for days.

Harrison did eventually come to see her as a mother after he caught a cold and the physician was unavailable, so Caroline had been stuck caring for the brute with the help of her housekeeper. In his delirium she believed he wouldn't recall her reluctant help, but he did, and so he began to call her 'mother' in a sweet fashion that almost warmed her heart. Almost. (She still didn't like children, but the four and six year olds were tolerable.)

Sometimes she wrote Charles and Louisa, but not often, as she lost the closeness with Louisa after the marriage of Mr. Darcy and that Eliza Bennet. She knew that Louisa had twin boys, and that Charles had three daughters. She also knew that the third daughter's birth had weakened his wife considerably. While she didn't particularly like Jane, she couldn't help but feel concerned for her brother's happiness.

On a warm night in late summer, Caroline heard soft footsteps padding down the hall, and she sighed heavily. "Holly Berry, I know it is you, so come out here my little child and ask what it is that you want." Holly giggled and crept into Caroline's sitting room, her orange locks falling from the braids. She had given the girl the nickname of Holly Berry, something that amused Henry and made Holly like her even more. (Caroline knew that if the kids resented her, eventually Henry would too, and she wanted his esteem as she actually was quite fond of him.)

"Mother Caroline, could you tuck me back in? I got up because I thought I saw fireflies out my window, but I was wrong," she hung her head sadly. Caroline rolled her eyes, grabbing the girls hand. She led her to her nursery, hoping she would fall asleep easily. Tucking the girl in, she pushed a piece of hair from her face. If she ever had a natural born child, she imagined it would look like Holly.

Catching herself with these thoughts, Caroline shook her head. She did not want a child, she had never really wanted a child, an heir and a spare back in England. She never truly wanted children in truth. But as she watched Holly slumber in the moonlight, she felt empty, wondering if her barren womb was punishment for her cruelty towards others.

After over an hour of simply watching her sleep, the door opened and Henry peered in. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Caroline, come now, the hour is late." He watched as she did not complain or reply, and knew something was wrong. He had been told of her inability to bear children, and while it disappointed him, it did not make his strange infatuation for her less strong. When she came into the hall, he pulled her into an embrace, and lord how she cried loudly into his nightshirt.

In the midst of new happiness, Caroline found the bitterest of tastes and the most longing she had felt in her life.

She had never wanted children.

But she found that she wanted one with Henry.

_**A/N: Happy? Sad? Bittersweet I think. Caroline would have been a better person, I think, once she stopped worrying about catching a husband. I also gave her a hardass American man who could deal with her and not let her rule over him. That also keeps her away from the people that caused her such bitterness. I still think Caroline is a jerk, but even the biggest jerks have soft spots, hearts, and heartaches. Btw I'm all over the place with what I decide happens to all these characters. I'm not trying to write realistically as if all this is definitely what I think happened to them all, literally I'm taking ideas and running with them. **_


	7. He Once Loved Me

_11 Years After the Marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy_

"It is okay, dearest, you cannot leave all the women without a partner, I insist you dance," said Jane Bingley, looking at her husband. Her once glowing countenance was fading, her luminous pale skin was now paper white and sallow, her once luscious curves had wasted away to skin and bone, and she had not the strength to exert herself without feeling faint. To think only five years ago her portrait had been hung in a public art gallery, and she had been hailed a 'paragon of beauty.'

It had been a miracle that she survived the birth of her third child, and since then she had been unable to even have relations with her husband, let alone bear him the son he so desired. But she had rallied that evening and went to a dinner party of their dear friends, the Fidel's. The couple was only a few years older than them, and had been great comfort to Jane when she had come into the Ton for the first time.

"At least you will keep me company, dear Piper," said Jane fondly, looking at the hostess, who had joined her at the table she sat at. Piper Fidel was a friendly woman whose beauty had not faded with age, and her sharp hazel eyes watched Jane in a way reminiscent of how Lizzie always looked at her when they were in each other's company.

Jane watched as Bingley danced with a twenty year old daughter of an acquaintance named Adeline Noring. A pang of jealousy was felt in her chest, but the kind woman could not bring herself to believe that Miss Noring would try anything with her husband.

"Piper," she ventured, "how do yourself and Frederick keep your love alive after so long?" Piper started at this question, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow.

"I always believed a love that is true doesn't need to be kept alive, a true love will keep itself sustained," answered Piper carefully, her eyes scanning the room for her husband. Frederick and she made eye contact, and a look too intimate for the setting was shared between them. "It also may have to do with the struggle that came with coming together as a couple."

Jane perked up at this, she recalled hearing rumors about the scandal that surrounded the Fidels (enough so that some still avoided the couple), but she had never been privy to the whole story. Despite never being a gossip, she was intrigued. "If you do not mind me asking, dear Piper, but I've never heard the whole story, I was always too afraid to ask in case of offending you."

Piper threw her head back and laughed gaily, and her guests all smiled at her with a warmth that was often lacking in London. "I believe it is time you learned a little, Jane… you see, I was a chambermaid at his father's house-" Jane had to stifle her gasp at the impropriety of it all, "and we met when I was thirteen, it was my first day, and he was running from his lessons. He had come upon me practicing polishing the silver." Piper smiled at the memory.

"Instead of just ignoring me, he sat down and talked with me. I never had felt as stupid as I did that day, hearing him talk so sophisticatedly while I barely knew proper English. My mum warned me he only wanted my… virtue, but he only wanted my friendship it seemed. He snuck me books, taught me lessons, and always demanded I be taken with them on their trips to town… as a maid of course. He showed me a world I never thought I could be involved in, and he never judged me for being a lower class than him. But, he was the second son, and he went off to get his fortune in war."

"We wrote to each other in secret, it helped me learn my letters and aided with spelling. And he did eventually make his fortune, and when he came home, he told me that he intended to marry me, if I was willing." Jane was awestruck by the story she was hearing. "His family disapproved, and they claimed they would disown him, shun him, and they reminded him of each and every bit of what made me the wrong choice of wife. I thought he wouldn't marry me, and I was ready to let him go for his own good. But he wouldn't let that happen. He denied his family, lost contact with them, and married me."

Giggling like a young girl, Piper said, "He told me I was the loyalest, kindest, wittiest, most sincere woman he ever met, and that he loved me no matter what his family believed. I think that is the reason we love each other so much- the hardships we experienced, that we fought against, made us appreciate each other so much."

Jane felt light headed. _Charles let his family control him, he let them take him away from me, he didn't fight to get me back until Darcy had given him permission. Until Louisa supported him. He wouldn't have married me if they had both continued to disagree. Wittiest? He has only ever called me beautiful. Loyalest? He has only called me angel. Sincere? He has only called me kind. He says he loves my temperament, but any woman could be beautiful and kind if she so pleased. _

"Thank you for that, Piper, it gives me much to think on," muttered Jane, now spotting Charles fetching refreshments for Miss Noring. Her heart clenched as she thought of how decidedly different her and Piper's situations had been; Frederick had fought in a war so he could marry her, Frederick lost his family for Piper, Piper had even been a chambermaid and he a gentleman's son! Frederick never even glanced at another woman in the presence of his wife.

Her husband was a good man, but his marriage hadn't tempered his propensity to lust after a pretty face. He still flirted (in a subdued manner that didn't tend to embarrass her) and now that she hadn't lain with him in almost two years due to her ailments, she feared he would stray from her forever. He touched her less, smiled less in her company, and it seemed that he longed for a son, especially when he saw the three sons of Elizabeth and Darcy.

All of her sisters had sons, all but herself. Louisa had a son, Georgiana had a son, Philomena had a son, Piper had a son, and even Caroline had a son (stepson, but son none the less). Jane only had three daughters and the inability to ever have another child. Now she understood the panic and despondency that made her mother so nervous all the time. Piper flitted off, required to interact with others at her own dinner party. Her story had left Jane with much to think about. Mainly being the question that had filled her heart two years ago after being told she would never regain her full health.

Did Charles love her truly? Was his love for her fading? Their courtship had been so pleasant and easy until he had left without a word. Then he came back and she didn't even ask for an apology! Jane barely spoke for the rest of the evening, earning concerned glances from her friends. Instead, she focused on her husband.

He laughed and joked with others as always, charming and amiable and so wonderful. But his gaze concerned her. It often rested on Miss Noring with a look that she recognized. The color was the one that he took on when he was troubled, and the twinkle was that of desire. He desired Miss Noring more than any woman before her. She was lovely, especially lovely.

Jane noted how opposite they were in appearance and person. Miss Noring had black lustrous curls and brown eyes that shone with youthful glee, her skin was dotted with freckles, and her smile wasn't demure. It was full and joyful. Her laughter was loud and happy, she dressed in rich colors, and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. She was somewhat similar to Lizzie, but instead of light teasing, it was dry humor and sharp wit.

The woman who never hated anyone in her entire life, could never find a fault in anyone in her life, despised Miss Noring with all her heart in that moment. Ashamed with herself, after dinner she told Charles she was feeling unwell and they returned to their townhouse. Their daughters, Lillian, Rose, and Pearl were all asleep in their nursery. Jane retired to her room and laid awake for several hours until she was sure Charles was asleep.

Then she snuck to his personal study, intent on finding what, she did not know. By the light of the candle, she rifled through his drawers, feeling foolish for betraying his trust. Just as she was about to give up her search, her eyes landed on a leather bound book. She opened it cautiously, as if it would sound an alarm and bring Charles running.

**The Journal of Charles Bingley**

Clenching her teeth and praying for forgiveness for what she was about to do, she began to scan the pages. There was only one thing she was searching for, and that was Adeline Noring's name. She flipped through page after page of the barely legible scrawl of her husband. It seemed as if she was not finding the girl's name- until the date marked February of the year before. That was when she came into society, that was when they had met her for the first time. Shakily, she read.

"**She is one of the most beautiful girls I have ever met. Possibly more beautiful than my dear Jane, whose loveliness has been fading with her illness. I do not mean to disparage my wife, as I still love her, but we have been growing apart. We have not shared a bed in over a year, and I miss the warmth of a woman. I would never have an affair, as it is against the word of God, but my eyes have been wandering. The object of my current thoughts is the young Adeline Noring, whose beauty and humor seems so alluring."**

Jane pushed a fist to her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. The stress made her chest ache and her legs weak. She read farther ahead, watching for Adeline's name. It was only ever mentioned in passing. She was nearing the last pages of writing, as the rest of the book was blank.

"**Dear journal, I will burn you when I have finished writing so nobody discovers my sins. I have begun to wish that Jane would succumb to her ailment. We barely leave the town house anymore, and while I tell her that I am visiting the gentleman's clubs, I am visiting the Noring household with the intent of seeing Adeline's elder brother. It's the only way I can see Adeline outside of public spaces. I have never in my life found myself so entranced by a woman, and I only wish I could make her my bride. **

**I am more in love with her than I fear I ever was with Jane, and I feel acutely ashamed. Sometimes I wish I had never met Adeline, while at other times I can't imagine how I would've survived the past year without her presence." **

With a sudden fit of anger and strength, Jane marched to the fireplace, lighting a fire. It took a few minutes for the flames to grow, but once it did, Jane threw the book in with all her might before collapsing to the floor in an exhausted heap of emotions.

Her fairy tale had come to a screeching halt. And now she was miserable.

_**A/N: At first I wanted to write a story about Jane and Bingley reuniting lovingly after being emotionally separated due to her sickness. Their love would overcome it and all that romantic nonsense. But then I decided to use an online 'prompt' maker to decide their fate. The first 'tone' of the story was jealousy. So I went with it. To be honest when I read P&P, I was annoyed by Jane and Bingley (probably my teenage angst, but still.) Their relationship made me feel like it was rather shallow, based upon looks, sweet temperaments, and not totally formed personalities. Sorry if it was a little long. Sorry if you aren't happy with the way Jane and Bingley ended up. But as I'm going to continue this story, I'll get back to Jane and Bingley at a later date.**_

_**If you want a more in depth analysis of how I viewed their relationship, send me a PM!**_


	8. Flowers are Happy Things

_15 Years After the Marriage of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy_

Mrs. Bennet had everything she could ever want. All five of her daughters had married, two had married extremely well, and she would never have to fear the hedgerows. But of course, she recognized problems in her life, as any woman would. Her Lyddie lived with herself and Mr. Bennet, seeing as that cad of a husband had run off seven years ago. But Oh! Wickham had been so handsome. It was a shame he was such a villain.

Although with Lyddie and Oliver living with them, Mrs. Bennet got the son she always desired. Oliver was a handsome young man, with his father's fine features and his mother's bright eyes. He had turned thirteen only two months prior, and although he looked like his parents, he was terribly shy, extremely smart, and he loved church. It was as if he was Mary's son instead of Lydia's. In fact, he loved going into Meryton to see his 'Auntie' Mary as much as humanly possible.

Mary, on the other hand, had a four year old daughter and a two year old son. Her son, Thomas, was the spitting image of her husband (which was rather tragic, as he wasn't the best looking fellow in the world), but her daughter. _Oh her daughter. _How Mrs. Bennet doted on Mary's daughter! Florence was an angel fallen to earth, she was like Jane, but with Mary's dark hair. Anyone who looked upon the girl could see she would be the next beauty of Hertfordshire when she came of age. Mary was especially proud of her children, they were both polite, sweet, and well tempered, and Florence was surely going to be a piano prodigy, as she could already play several easy songs at the tender age of four.

But, Mrs. Bennet's biggest joy was that she was in a fine carriage, on her way to see her eldest daughter with her husband.

"My dear Mr. Bennet," started Mrs. Bennet after a particularly long silence, "do you realize how truly blessed we are? Thirteen grandchildren- soon to be fourteen, all lovely, my future secured, and our dear Lyddie and Oliver living with us! What a wonderful life we have." She sighed contentedly, but couldn't help but notice the rolling of her husband's eyes. Usually the dear Francesca 'Fanny' Bennet found herself able to handle all of her husband's censure and judgement, but that afternoon, she was in a peculiar mood.

"And pray tell me, Mr. Bennet, what it is that you are rolling your eyes about? Am I being too silly for your tastes? Shall I be quiet and allow you to sulk in peace?" Mr. Bennet's eyes widened in shock at the bitterness in his wife's words. His eyebrows rose, and for a moment he was lost for words. Quickly he regained himself.

"I was just thinking of how decidedly blessed we are not." Mrs. Bennet's brows furrowed and she shook her head in an annoyed fashion, unable to understand why her husband insisted on being so shortsighted. "Indeed, having a thirty year old daughter living with us is not a blessing, as we must take care of her financially, as she cannot remarry because somewhere in the world Wickham is still breathing."

Continuing, he said, "Our eldest daughter is deathly ill and yet she now bears another child in the hopes that she will provide her husband with an heir! So most likely, as we visit her, we will see her on her death bed. I do not wish to say it but it is the truth, and I cannot deny the truth. We are not blessed, and I cannot recall a time in our lives when I could really say that we were 'truly blessed' humph!" He turned abruptly, looking out the window, ignoring the way Fanny's lip trembled.

Although Lyddie had always been Mrs. Bennet's favorite, she held a special place in her heart for Jane. Beautiful Jane, who was sweet and kind, and so heartbreakingly similar in her attempts to provide her husband with an heir. Mrs. Bennet prayed that Jane would be able to succeed where she had failed. They would be arriving at the Bingley Manor in less than an hour, and her anxiety grew as they got closer. What if Jane died on the birthing bed? What if the babe died? What if they both died? Mrs. Bennet couldn't stop herself from worrying.

"Jane is strong," said Mr. Bennet as they pulled into the drive that led to their daughter's house. "She is stronger than we all would like to think, she will live."

The house was lovely, as always, with beautiful shining windows and an opulent green lawn and flourishing gardens. Another carriage sat in front of the entryway, and Mrs. Bennet for some reason, felt an incredible sickness creep into her stomach.

They exited their carriage, and were greeted by the housekeeper, Mrs. Epson, who was looking worried. "Mr and Mrs. Bennet, I apologize for the disarray, the Mrs. Bingley has just gone into labor, and she's been requesting the presence of you Mrs. Bennet." Immediately Fanny pulled away from her husband and ran, following the screams of her oldest child.

Her chamber doors were closed, but Mrs. Bennet didn't hesitate to throw the doors open, seeing her daughter, the physician, the midwife, and two servant girls. Jane was pale and shimmering with sweat, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her blue eyes were filled with tears.

"It's too early mama!" cried Jane, "The babe isn't supposed to be here for another three weeks! It's too soon!" she gasped, letting out another shrill scream. Mrs. Bennet rushed to her daughter's side, grabbing her hand and wiping her brow.

"The babe knows when it's supposed to be born, and so it decided to come early," assured Mrs. Bennet, kissing her daughter's hair. Another scream pierced the air.

Down the hallway, in the nursery, Mr. Bennet found his son-in-law and his three granddaughters. Lillian, the eldest, who was twelve and a half, sat daintily in a chair, embroidering, the only sign of distress was the faintest glimmer of tear tracks on her cheeks. Rose, who was not yet ten, was playing with her dolls, and Pearl, at the age of seven, sat in Bingley's lap, asking about her mummy every few minutes.

Bingley looked worse for wear, gray hairs streaked through orange, eyes bloodshot, with deep purple bags under them, he looked as if he hadn't slept in years. Jane's scream echoed down the hallway, causing Bingley to flinch and for Lillian to clench her eyes shut for a moment. Mr. Bennet had never seen a more distressed room of people in his life.

"Grandfather," started Rose shyly, "could you tell me a story about my mama when she was little like me?" Slightly shocked, but having the desire to make the young girls feel better, Mr. Bennet nodded, watching as everyone in the room (including Bingley) turned to look at him.

"When my Jane, your mother, was eleven, she came home one evening, smelling so strongly of flowers that it made your grandmother sick. Her hair had flowers stuck in every strand, her dress was filled with flowers, her basket, her dolls, everything had flowers in it. They were all so beautiful that all of us knew where she had gotten them from. You see, at the time, there was a family letting the nearby house called Netherfield, and they had grown a magnificent garden every summer for three years. Jane, the dear, had been so entranced by the flowers, the beauty of the garden, that she had gone through and picked as many as she could carry."

"She had every flower imaginable, and she looked like a faerie, straight from the woods, sunshine struck and happy. But she had stolen- obviously. And the family at Netherfield had a son who was fourteen, and your grandmother believed that when Jane got older, the two could be married… silly, I know, but your grandmother was so scared of angering them, that she took the flowers and turned half into perfume, the other half into decor, and threw the rest behind the barn. For the next six years, I called Jane my Flower Girl- I- I don't know why I ever stopped. Because she never stopped loving flowers." _But it seems that I stopped loving her. _

Rose smiled, "She loved flowers so much that she named me and Lily after them!" Mr. Bennet nodded stiffly, feeling tears forming in his eyes.

Day turned into night, and still, screams echoed from Jane's chambers, the physician seemed to look downtrodden whenever he came to update them. It wasn't looking as if Jane or the babe were likely to survive, the physician told Mr. Bennet. The children were sent to bed, they were all exhausted anyways, and Mr. Bingley needed to be alone.

Mrs. Bennet stayed with her daughter for the grueling twenty seven hours it took for the babe to be brought into the world. When it finally came forth, right after dinner the second day, it was small and pink, only a small cry leaving it's lips.

"It's a girl," announced the midwife briefly, passing the babe onto one of the servants who would clean her off. Mrs. Bennet had never seen so much blood, she had never seen Jane so pale, so pale she was almost blue.

Either the midwife or the physician muttered, "We're losing her," Mrs. Bennet didn't know which, but all she saw was the delirious look in the wide eyes of her child. Most would think that she would have panicked and called for her salts, but Mrs. Bennet loved her children more than she loved herself or her nerves, and Jane needed her.

Downstairs, Mr. Bennet sat in a study with Bingley, a knock on the door caused them both to stand. Mrs. Epson entered the room. "It's a girl, Mr. Bingley," she announced, and Bingley let a small smile appear on his face.

"And what of Jane?" he asked anxiously, stepping forwards.

"If she can survive the initial twelve hours, then they say she will survive, and that all we can do for her is pray now. Her life is in the hands of the Lord."

Left with that knowledge, Mr. Bennet let out a nervous breath, watching as Bingley took off from the room.

Mrs. Bennet had been sent from the room so that they could clean Jane up and get her comfortable. If she could survive the first night, she would survive, Mrs. Bennet needed Jane to survive. Nobody could stand the loss of their child, no matter what age. The baby was sleeping, not named yet, not yet held by either of her parents. Just watching the small girl sleep made Mrs. Bennet pray even harder for her Jane to survive.

The sky darkened, and it had been two days now since the girls had seen their mother, two days since Bingley had seen his wife. Mr. Bingley crept into Jane's dimly lit room far after midnight, unknowing that Mrs. Bennet was in the opposite corner, sitting in an armchair, watching and waiting.

He knelt beside Jane's bed, put his face into the covers, and wept. Mrs. Bennet felt embarrassed just watching, but she couldn't bring herself to leave or let him know she was there. For what seemed like a life age, he sobbed, holding her hand between his. After some time, he began to speak.

"Jane, my dearest Jane, I'm so sorry!" he cried, "It was all my fault for letting my gaze stray, for thinking of other women, for hoping this exact thing would happen! My sins are becoming a reality and it's all my fault! You've been my sunshine, my everything, from the moment we met in that ballroom in Meryton. I love you I love you more than any pretty face I've met, more than any talented girl. None are as kind, or as loyal, or as hardworking as you! None are as forgiving or understanding or amazing."

"It was not your face that I loved, I loved your soul, because it would always be more beautiful than mine. Jane, my angel, my everything. If you die, a part of me will die. I cannot live, I cannot breathe, if you are not by my side. I was a stupid little boy, a stupid foolish boy for ever looking for another, for ever believing anyone would love me as you do. None could." He shakily breathed in, continuing.

"And I made you feel like a failure. I wanted a son, but I didn't _need _one. I never needed one, you could give me a thousand daughters and I would love them all as much as any son. You could have given me no children at all and I would have loved you just the same. But I never let you know that, and now you are on death's door."

"You'll never know how much I adore you. You'll never know how sorry I was that you had to know what was in that horrible diary. You'll never know how deeply in love with you I was- how deeply in love with you that I still am. It's all my fault, all my fault…"

Mrs. Bennet remained still, despite the tears running down her own face, hearing such unadulterated love flow from the mouth of her daughter's husband, she felt the keen ache for such a love. He remained by her side as the night faded away and the sun began to rise. Just as Mrs. Bennet succumbed to sleep, she heard him mutter one last promise.

"If God does indeed decide he needs another angel, I'll never remarry, never love anyone like I've loved you. All of the love I possess will go to our daughters. I promise. I promise."

_**A/N: Because my last chapter was sloppily written and blah blah blah, I wanted to fix a few things, so I jumped forwards several more years than planned. I've written and re-written this stupid chapter like 60 times. But whatever, so… will Jane survive? She's not even forty yet technically so she's still plenty strong… but her sickness had affected her badly in the past few years. **_

_**If any of you still have the patience to read this mess, message me with what you want to happen next. **_


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